


baby, you don't have to worry (i'll be coming back for you)

by xavierurban



Series: JayTim Month-ish 2019 [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Inception (2010), Red Hood: Lost Days, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: 'Eth Alth'eban, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Established Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inception - Freeform, Inception AU, Kinda, M/M, Murder-Suicide, POV Tim Drake, Suicide, Temporary Character Death, again: kinda, all within the dreamscape though, architect!damian, at least it’s meant to be but tbh this can be read as platonic too, dreamshare au, extractor!dick, forger!jason, jason’s subconscious is still a terrible place despite bruce’s best efforts at deprogramming, limbo fic, lost days!jason todd, no capes AU, pointman!tim, young!jason todd - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 08:02:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20617691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xavierurban/pseuds/xavierurban
Summary: A botched job leaves Jason caught in limbo; it's up to Tim to go after him and bring him home intact.JayTimWeek2019 Week 5: No Capes





	baby, you don't have to worry (i'll be coming back for you)

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! i'm sorry this is so late; for those of you who didn't read my previous story, my grandmother passed at the end of august, and it was a whirlwind of getting home, planning the services and attending everything, only to culminate with hurricane dorian hitting during the wake and knocking out power for close to 48 hours. needless to say, i didn't get a chance to finish this work in time, nor to work on my entries for the final two prompts. hopefully by the time they're ready, people will still be interested in reading them haha.
> 
> in the meantime, enjoy this one! ima be honest; it's only very thinly no capes, and is arguably more like different capes. but. y'know. w/e w/e i do what i want.
> 
> title from back to you by one direction

They had known going into it that they were dealing with a mark who had been trained against extraction, their subconscious militarized to keep unwanted guests out. It wasn't the first or even the hundredth time they'd dealt with subsecurity, and it was always a risk, but it was one the whole team was pretty comfortable with.  
  
They hadn't expected it to be an issue, despite the level of sedation they'd had to put the mark under. Yet another risk that was par for the course in their line of work; nothing to worry about.  
  
  
  
They were wrong.  


* * *

The first thing Tim feels is anger. No, outrage. He's _outraged _that Jason chose to jump in front of a bullet for him, taking it square in the chest instead of letting it go through Tim's skull.  
  
The second thing he feels is relief, if only for a moment, because the thought of being thrown into limbo so violently leaves him shaking.  
  
Or maybe that's the adrenaline.  
  
The third thing, at the front of his mind even as he and the rest of the team scrambles to find safety in order to regroup, is dread.  
  
Dread, because they can't leave Jason down there until he finds his own way out, potentially at the risk of his mind ending up more scrambled than it had ever been before. Dread, because Tim himself is running point on this one, having stepped in for Bruce who was otherwise tied up.  
  
Bruce had been the one to go down into limbo with Jason when they’d finally brought him home after years of brainwashing and torment, had been the one to root out and remove the toxic beliefs that had been implanted into the other man’s mind, and Tim feels guilty for wishing that Bruce was there with them now. He would know what to do, what to expect. Hell, he’d probably know exactly where to go looking for Jason once he got down there.  
  
But Bruce _isn’t _there, and Tim knows that this is now a job that will have to fall to him.  
  
The moment they reach a secure and defensible position, Damian rounds on him and Dick both with a snarl.  
  
"I demand that you permit me to go after Todd."  
  
Tim frowns, his own 'it's too dangerous' coming out at the same time as Dick's 'Damian, _no_.'  
  
The youngest growls, and Tim steps up into his space, putting his hands on the architect's shoulders.  
  
"Damian," he snaps, "I will _not _send you back down to limbo." He takes a steadying breath, and then continues, "Dick is going to continue to the extraction point, and _I _will go after Jason. _You _will remain here, guarding me, for no more than fifteen minutes, and then you will proceed with the job. Find Dick, and act as his backup."  
  
"Tim," Dick cuts in, and his voice is so gentle Tim almost wants to scream, "Let me go after him. You've done extractions before, you'll have no problem taking my place."  
  
"Quiet," Tim snaps again, and Damian frowns up at him when his grip tightens, "This isn't a conversation. Bruce assigned me point on this job, and this is _my _decision. You're going to respect it. We can argue about it later, once _all _of us are topside again."  
  
There's something like awe in Damian's eyes as he stares up at Tim for a moment, but it's gone soon after as he schools his expression and steps out of Tim's hold.  
  
"Fine," he grumbles, "But if you screw this up, I will _kill _you, Drake."  
  
Tim rolls his eyes, and Damian snarls again.  
  
All bark and very little bite, that one is, but Tim can't help but be touched. Damian is prickly on a good day, but he will swear up and down that Jason was his very first friend - his _only _friend, for so very long - despite him being eight years Jason's junior.  
  
Times like this act as a much needed reminder that Damian has a heart underneath all the rage and conceit.  
  
He turns to Dick, then, and gives the eldest a small nod.  
  
"Go, Dick," he says, "Get what we came here for, then get out."  
  
Dick stares him down for a few long seconds and then nods before turning and slipping back out the door they'd come through.  
  
Tim moves over to the desk, and retrieves the PASIV he'd dreamt up the moment they arrived. He brings it to the back of the room and then kneels as he opens it and begins to unwind one of the lines.  
  
Damian approaches, then, and swats Tim's hands away, taking over as Tim sits back against the wall and offers up his arm for the other boy to insert the needle.  
  
"Hey," he says, reaching out to grab Damian's wrist, "Don't worry about us. Get to Dick, finish the job, and wait for Cass to signal the kick. Jason and I will be fine."  
  
The younger boy stares at him for a long moment before sniffing and pulling his arm free.  
  
"As if I would risk myself to wait for you."  
  
Tim huffs out a laugh, and tips his head back as he closes his eyes.  
  
"Love you too, brat," he murmurs, and Damian scoffs.  
  
"Shut up, Drake," he mutters, "Bring Todd back."  
  
Tim doesn't have the chance to reply before the familiar tug of the PASIV drags him under.

* * *

He wakes on the ground, and blinks several times in an effort to disperse the feeling of disorientation that always hits him when he comes to in the dreamscape.  
  
_Jason_, he thinks suddenly, and bolts upright, __I need to find Jason.  
  
Tim dusts himself off as he scrambles to his feet and looks around. The dirty, weathered alleyways of Gotham that surround him are familiar, if older and more dilapidated than ever, and his heart sinks a little at the idea that this is the world Jason crafted for himself in the time he was down here. Time that seems to have been mere minutes to Tim, but that must have been months - perhaps even years, already, for Jason.  
  
It wasn’t like he’d expected to wake up at the Manor, but-  
  
Well, Tim doesn’t really know what he expected. Maybe it should have been exactly this.  
  
He shakes himself off, and makes his way down the alley slowly, hoping the rumours are true, and projections are few and far between in limbo. He really doesn’t want to face down Jason’s own personal militia by himself, especially if it kills him before he can reach Jason.  
  
Then there’s the fact that Jason could be anyone.  
  
The thought strikes Tim like lightning, and he hopes to whatever higher power is out there that he’ll be able to tell who Jason is, no matter what forge he dons.  
  
The alley seems to go on without end, until Tim is certain he must have been walking for hours. He stops eventually, and lets out a frustrated sigh as he goes to lean back against one of the walls - and immediately falls through an empty space into another alley.  
  
Goddamn him, he’d made a labyrinth right in the middle of East Gotham, and Tim swears he’s going to strangle him when he finally finds him.  
  
_I can’t make mazes, my fucking _ass_, _Tim thinks bitterly as he picks himself back up off the ground once more.  
  
Now that he _knows _it’s a labyrinth, Tim manages to navigate it much more easily, though he has no real way of knowing whether he’s getting closer to Jason or even farther away.  
  
When he finally makes it out, Tim is once again stunned by what he finds - because it sure as Hell isn’t Gotham.  
  
For one, the ornate buildings all carry a distinct Arabian flare, and even the air temperature seems to grow hotter as Tim approaches the… city? He’s pretty sure it’s a city, if a bit of a smaller one - or perhaps Jason had only transplanted the part he’d felt he needed.  
  
Tim swallows hard as he approaches the copper gates that guard the entry, and wills them to open. Just when he’s about to give up and prepare himself for a climb, there’s a groan of metal and the gates swing inwards and Tim hurries to walk through before they can close again.  
  
What Tim is sure was once a beautiful, shining city is beginning to fall into disrepair, the copper that accents the buildings beginning to oxidize, and the buildings themselves have started to crack and crumble.  
  
He wishes he knew where to start on his search for Jason, but nothing here is familiar; not one piece of it resonates as something Jason has described to him-  
  
-until he catches sight of the absolutely monstrous statue in the middle of the courtyard, a statute that bears the unmistakable visage of Ra’s al Ghul, the very man who had taken Jason, once upon a time, twisting and polluting his mind into obedience and submission. It sits above a beautiful fountain, and before what can only be described as a palace.  
  
Well, Tim supposes, the palace is likely as good a place as any to start looking.  
  
The inside of the palace is in even worse repair than the city outside its walls, the paint chipping off the walls, and the floor cluttered with broken artifacts and stained in many places with what Tim suspects is blood.  
  
It feels like he spends days walking the corridors of the palace, without a single sign of life to ensure he’s even on the right path, but something keeps pulling him onwards. Somehow, Tim is sure that he’s getting closer with each moment that passes.  
  
Still, it’s a shock to him when he opens yet another door and finds that he’s no longer alone. He can’t make out much more than a basic silhouette sitting on the far side of the bed at the centre of the room; whoever it is, their back is turned to Tim, and when they do turn around, there’s no time to assess them before Tim has to dive out of the way of a blade soaring towards him. A blade that imbeds itself in the wall, catching the light coming in from the doorway.  
  
It’s not just any blade, Tim realises then. No, it’s one he is intimately familiar with: Jason’s kris, a gift from Ra’s daughter, Talia.  
  
“Jason?” He asks, hands raised in a show of peace, “It’s Tim. Do you know who I am?”  
  
Jason turns towards him slowly, just slowly enough that Tim has time to realise he’s too short - and his frame, too small - to be the Jason he knows.  
  
A forge, then.  
  
Of… himself?  
  
Tim blinks, taking in what can only be a younger version of Jason, clad in loose-fitting white cotton pants, a double sword back scabbard, and nothing else. His eyes are wide as he takes in Tim’s appearance, something like recognition flashing in them before he shuts his expression down and reaches for, and draws, the swords at his back.  
  
“State your business, intruder,” he growls, and Tim just stares at him.  
  
Wasn’t Bruce supposed to have _fixed this?_  
  
Dammit, if the deepest layers of Jason’s subconscious were still so thoroughly steeped in his memories of his time with the al Ghul’s, then Bruce had to have missed something when he’d taken Jason under all those months ago.  
  
Jason charges at him then, apparently having waited long enough to decide Tim wasn’t going to answer, and Tim barely manages to roll out of the way before the swords come crashing down where he’d been crouching.  
  
“Jason,” he calls out, “Please. It’s me. Tim. Timothy Drake.”  
  
Jason turns to him again, clearly about to try for another strike, and Tim draws his retractable bo staff and snaps it into its full length just in time to block.  
  
“Dammit, Jay,” he curses, using the staff to shove Jason back a few paces before attempting to retreat further himself, “I’m not here to hurt you!”  
  
Jason snarls, and Tim speaks again without stopping to process the words that are coming out of his mouth.  
  
“I’m with Bruce,” he shouts, and Jason falters, his next strike losing just enough speed that Tim is able to dodge again, “Please, Jason. He wants you to come home.” He swallows, and forces the next words out, hopes they’re the right thing to say, “We’ve been looking for you.”  
  
Jason makes a small noise of despair at that, and Tim feels like his chest is being pierced.  
  
“Liar!” Jason roars a moment later, pulling himself back together in order to attack Tim once again.  
  
Tim has never been more glad that he and Jason had sparred this way so many times in the past, the familiarity of their dance easy to fall into as they trade strikes back and forth until finally, _finally_, Tim manages to get the upper hand, knocking first one of Jason’s swords from his grip, and then the other.  
  
“Yield,” he begs, letting his desperation show, “Please, Jason. I don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
God, this is too delicate a job. All Tim wants to do is put Jason out of his misery, and then follow behind, but he _can’t_, not without knowing how that might carry over when they both wake up. The last thing he wants to do is create a rift between them, or, God forbid, leave Jason afraid of him once they’re topside.  
  
Jason struggles against where Tim has managed to pin him against the wall with his forearm across his throat, and Tim’s heart breaks at the fear reflected back at him from teal eyes he knows how to read like the back of his own hand.  
  
“Please,” he begs again, “This isn’t real, Jason. This entire world, it’s- We’re in limbo, Jason. Do you remember what that means?”  
  
The fear doesn’t so much fade as become covered by a cloud of confusion, and Tim holds his breath.  
  
“It’s time to wake up, Jason,” he whispers, and, finally, Jason goes lax against him before arching stiffly as his body suddenly grows, and Tim has to pull his arm back before he chokes Jason for real.  
  
“Tim?” Jason asks weakly, and Tim lets out a small sob of relief at the sight of Jason’s true face.  
  
“Yeah, Jay,” he says, dipping his head to rest against Jason’s shoulder, “Yeah, it’s me. I came for you. I’ll always come for you.”  
  
_“Tim,”_ Jason says again, his hands coming up to clutch at Tim’s shoulders before he wraps the younger man in his arms, “Fuck. Fuck, Tim-”  
  
“I know, Jay,” he breaths, “I know.”  
  
They stay like that for a few minutes, pressed close and sharing the air around them, until Tim finally clears his throat and tips his head back.  
  
"Are you good, Jay?" He asks gently, "You know we can't stay here, don't you?"  
  
Jason nods sluggishly even as he tucks his face into Tim's hair.  
  
"This isn't real," he says, words muffled, "We're dreaming, this is limbo."  
  
Tim strokes a hand down Jason's spine, and hums.  
  
"Yeah," he agrees, "Do you need to check your totem first?"  
  
"Trust you," Jason disagrees with a shake of his head, and Tim frowns.  
  
"Jason…"  
  
"No," Jason growls as he pulls back, "I would never dream you __here. You're no projection."  
  
Tim sighs, and steps back as well, slipping one of Jason's guns from the holster at his thigh as he does.  
  
"Okay." He lets out a deep breath, and then murmurs, "Close your eyes, Jay."  
  
Jason complies, and Tim is surprised to see all remaining tension flood out of him instead of intensifying. Tim swallows hard at the show of trust and raises the gun with a steady arm.  
  
A single shot to the forehead is all it takes, and Tim doesn't allow himself to look any more than he needs to in order to confirm that the deed is done, that Jason is home.  
  
A second shot to his own temple ensures that Tim will be joining him.

**Author's Note:**

> for all the inception aus i've plotted out or started writing, this is the first one i've ever finished, so i'm pretty pleased about that, at least. it's not perfect, but i hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
